One such tune he frequently sang was by The Mills Brothers, “You Always Hurt the One You Love.” It seemed an odd choice coming from the man who woke me with Oh What A Beautiful Morning from Oklahoma. Who entertained me on long car rides with the chorus of “I Love A Parade” from Music Man. Who encouraged me with “It Took A Miracle” by Eddie Arnold.
I was most confounded by the first two lines which were:

You always hurt the one you love
The one you shouldn’t hurt at all

It simply made no sense to this young girl with an unjaded, romantic view of love. What is love if not kind? Hurting others wasn’t kind. Why would you “always hurt” someone you loved?

Well, life and circumstance have a way of turning over the ground in our souls allowing wisdom to spring up. I can confirm that hurting someone you love isn’t kind. But it is what we humans do. 

Strangely, I believe it happens because love provides a safe space. One where, in our selfishness, we might assume we’re always loved in spite of our unseemly behavior. 

Hurt and fear lash out swiftly and cruelly and most often have no filter. This is sad but true. And I am guilty as charged. I so often hurt the ones I hold dearest to my heart because I expect they’ll understand. And forgive.

Beginning with God. 

So today I’ll start at the top and strive to remember love isn’t rude or bossy. I’ll extend grace when those who profess their love act unbecomingly toward me. I’ll turn the other cheek and wait for them to calm down or come around so we can have an open and constructive conversation. I’ll be the first to apologize and the last to react to their anger.
LORD, help! It’s the only way I can…

That’s what’s on my mind today.

Be Kind. Love Well.

~ Tonda

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I’m not apologizing for the phrase. That IS the phrase. I’m sorry. It became an exhaustive part of my vernacular. Constantly apologizing for who I was, how I looked, what I said, the reason I said it, why I came, why I didn’t come. 

And more often than not it included an explanation of some sort. Why was I sorry? If you traced every single reason I gave, each found its root in one:  I was sorry for being. For existing in a way that was contrary to what others wanted me to be or wanted for me.

I finally became aware of it thanks to a wise friend who was bold enough to point it out. And when I stopped myself every time it tried to burst from my mouth, I realized a few things. 

One, most times I had nothing to be sorry about.

Two, most times no one was aware of whatever I was apologizing for, much less holding me personally responsible.

Three, I’m not wrong for who I am, which brings us back to the root. Being sorry for being. 

If you have kiddos in your life it’ll break your heart watching them struggle with identity as they grow. It begins early and, well, that process never ends till we die. So God’s still watching you and me and praying we’ll learn to love ourselves just the way we are. To find our identity in Him. After all, we were created in His image.

Be kind. Love well.

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